


Everything Is Easier When You're Home

by theatergay



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Cuddling, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Trans Racetrack Higgins, Trans Spot Conlon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-21 17:59:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14290296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theatergay/pseuds/theatergay
Summary: Spot sits up. His hair is messed up from the hood and the blanket is caught on his sweatshirt, and if Race knew him to be in a better mood he would have kissed him senseless. Instead, Race just lays a hand on his cheek and a soft kiss on his lips. “Go get changed, okay? I’ll be right here when you get back.”-Or: Spot's college advisory meeting goes less well than hoped, but Race helps him feel a bit better.





	Everything Is Easier When You're Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [poor-guys-headisspinning (poor_guys_headisspinning)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/poor_guys_headisspinning/gifts).



> Title from In The Heights' "When You're Home". Slight warning for self harm mentions, but nothing graphic.

The apartment is quiet when Race gets home from a long day of classes. Usually Spot will already be home from class and have put the TV on for background noise while he does homework, or be singing too loudly and off-key while he works on making dinner. While the silence isn’t unwelcome, it is unnerving.

He drops his keys on the hook near the door and sets his backpack on his dining room chair. It feels chilly, too; Spot usually keeps the air conditioning higher than needed, and Race isn’t used to it being anywhere under seventy in the apartment. He turns the heat on and makes his way into the living room.

Spot is curled up on the couch, holding a throw blanket tightly around himself. Race can’t tell whether or not he’s awake, but he can tell that he’s tense under the blanket. Race moves slowly and crouches down in front of him, pushing his hood back just enough to see his face.

“Hey, Spot,” he says gently, carding his fingers through Spot’s hair. Spot squeezes his eyes shut tighter then they were before. “Bad day?” Spot nods jerkily. “Do you want to tell me about it?” He shakes his head.

“I want you to let me sleep,” he mumbles, moving a hand up to pull his hood back over his face.

“I will in a few minutes, okay?”

Spot grumbles in response, rolling over and burying his face in the couch cushions. Race pushes his hood back again and scratches at the nape of Spot’s neck the way he usually likes, hoping to calm him a little.

“How's your breathing?” Spot shrugs. “Do you have your binder on?” Spot turns and opens his eyes for the first time, but still refuses to look at Race.

“Go away,” he says. There's no real conviction or anger behind it. It's just a hollow request, and it makes Race want to cry.

“I can't let you sleep in your binder, ‘ _soro_ ,” Race says. “You'll get hurt.” Spot just shrugs again. Race pushes Spot’s bangs up and kisses his forehead. “You wouldn't let me sleep in mine.”

“That's different,” Spot argues. “You're small. Your ribs would get hurt.”

“Yours will too,” Race tells him patiently. “I promise you can put the hoodie back on after, okay?”

“I don't want to.”

“I know you don't,” Race says. “I don't like taking mine off either. You know that. But I also know that you wouldn't let me get hurt because of it.”

“Can I wear your dumb school shirt?” Race grins kindly.

“Sure,” he says. “You can wear my dumb school shirt.”

Spot sits up. His hair is messed up from the hood and the blanket is caught on his sweatshirt, and if Race knew him to be in a better mood he would have kissed him senseless. Instead, Race just lays a hand on his cheek and a soft kiss on his lips.

“Go get changed, okay? I’ll be right here when you get back.” Spot nods, stumbling up and into their shared bedroom. The door closes behind him, harder than it needs to, but Race lets it go.

He can hear Spot rummaging through the drawers, and checks his phone quickly. There's nothing worth noting, no texts from Spot since before noon, and he clicks it back off by the time Spot is re-emerging from the bedroom. Race can't help but smile at the sight of his boyfriend in a far too large MIT v-neck. Race doesn't remember how he ended up with an extra large size, but he appreciates its comfiness. Spot wouldn't admit it, but he does too.

Spot sits down next to Race on the couch. Race is relieved to hear him breathing deeply. “Do you still want me to leave you alone?” Spot hesitates before shaking his head. “Do you still want to sleep?” 

Spot shrugs. “I guess.”

“Do you want to stay here?” Spot nods. “Can we cuddle?” He lets out a little laugh in response.

“Sure.”

Race grabs the blanket that Spot had previously been burrowed under and lays down, making sure that there's enough space for Spot to lay down next to him. He wiggles back into the cushions and pats the couch for Spot to settle in next to him.

It takes a while for Spot to get situated, but Race just waits patiently. Race sets the other half of the blanket over him and wraps his arm around Spot’s waist. Spot nestles into him and closes his eyes.

“You still don’t want to tell me about your day?” Spot tenses and lets out a deep sigh.

“My advisor was on some bullshit,” is all he says. Race laughs softly.

“Yeah, they usually are,” Race says. “I’m sorry.” Spot shrugs.

“S’whatever. I’m tired.” Race presses a gentle kiss to the back of his neck, laying his forehead on Spot’s head. Race slips a hand under the hem of Spot’s shirt. “Stop it,” Spot snaps.

“I’m not trying to touch you,” Race says, pulling his hand away quickly. “I just want to make sure you’re not hurt.”

“I didn't cut myself, if that's what you're worried about.”

“Can I check?”

“You don’t believe me.”

“I do, Spot,” Race promises. “I believe you. I just want to check.” Spot’s still tense, but lets out a small sigh.

“…Don’t touch my chest.”

“I won’t,” Race says, pressing a kiss just below Spot’s ear. He runs a hand over Spot’s stomach. He feels far too many raised scars, but can tell that there’s no new ones. Spot breathes out deeply when Race pulls his hand away. “Thank you.” Spot hums in acknowledgement. “Will you text me the next time you have a bad day? I could’ve come home sooner.”

“It’s not that important, Race,” Spot mumbles. 

“Hey,” Race says. “I’ve seen you drop everything for me when I’m having a bad day, and I’d do the same for you in an instant, okay? For every single time you remind me to eat, or get me to wear a jacket when I don’t want to, or convince me to go to bed when I could stay up for days working, I’m going to be there to help you do the same things. Okay?”

“I don’t do any of that.”

“You know what I mean, Spot. You know I’ve got your back no matter what.” Spot laughs gently.

“Yeah,” he says. “I know.”

“I love you.”

“Thanks.”

“Say it back?”

“Race, you know I don’t–”

“I don’t mean it like that. I love you, Spot.” He presses a kiss to Spot’s neck. “I love you.” A kiss to his shoulder. “I love you.” A kiss to his ear.

“You love me.” Spot reaches down and lays his hand over Race’s on his stomach.

“Hell yeah, Spot.” Race grins against his back. “I’m _in_ love with you.” Spot doesn’t respond, but Race knows that it doesn’t mean anything personal. Spot just is too hesitant with relationships to say it back yet. “Are you still tired?” Spot nods. “Get some sleep for me, okay? And I’m going to be right here when you wake up, and I’m going to make you fettucini alfredo when you do. Even if it’s the middle of the night. You deserve noodles.”

“Thanks,” Spot says through a yawn. Race kisses him again.

“Of course. You know I love you, _‘soro_. Always have, always will.”

**Author's Note:**

> "'soro" is short for tesoro, which translates directly to "treasure" but is a common italian pet name!  
> wow. here's a piece of writing, for once. it's not the longest thing, but y'know, that's just how it be sometimes. dedicated to my sib from another crib @poor_guys_head_is_spinning whomstve i love very much!! kudos and comments help both of these boys (and me) have good days!


End file.
